21: Murphys Law


Sheepishly I walked into the bedroom and got dressed, Denis had already slipped on a pair of jeans and was sitting at the kitchen table directly facing the cop.

After asking for my ID, I was told I could leave;  the cop guarding the door, open it for me and told me to have a safe drive home. Phew, hopefully I wasn’t a suspect in a murder case, but my god, Denis was!

Somehow I managed to make it home without driving myself into a ditch or of causing a head on collision, my mind was not on the road, it was on the entire night’s scenario.

In a moment of total lucidity, I seriously questioned if I was crazy.

Yes, things at home were far from good, in fact they were downright horrible and no matter what I did I couldn’t seem to make it better.

Mr. R had made it perfectly clear that he was not going to change his ways, and in so doing I had concocted this three step plan to get even with him;  Denis was not supposed to be part of my plan.

How had I managed to get myself involved with a guy I had only recently met, a guy that I didn’t know anything about, a guy who’d made a pass at me and one that I chose to act upon; seriously, what was I thinking?

Not only had I committed adultery, I had chosen to do it with a guy who was in some way involved in one.

My big night had taken an ugly turn and I was no longer basking in the afterglow.  My heart was pounding but not for the same reason as when I had climbed the stairs to his apartment.

I was scared to death, not of Denis (strangely enough), but of being called in for questioning.  Not only would Mr. R  find out, so would my parents.  Could I end up losing my kids because of being involved with someone that had something to do with a murder.  Oh god, what was I going to do.

When I arrived home, everyone was asleep, I didn’t climb into bed, instead I stretched out on the sofa, sleep wouldn’t come.  Something that had felt exceptionally pleasant, had turned into something quite the opposite.

Murder was not something that I could simply stash away in my icicle box of memories;  the fear of Mr R finding out about my one night stand was now replaced with the fear that Denis was somehow involved in a murder, or worse yet, was the murderer.

By the time the sun had risen my mind was racing a little bit less, but I was still feeling rather sick, sick with worry!

No, Denis could not be the murderer, otherwise the cops would have handcuffed him and hauled his pretty little ass to jail.

The cops had allowed me to leave after proving that I was who I was.  The fact that one of the cops knew who I was might play in my favour.

The fact that the cops had not questioned me other than asking my name and to provide proof, suggested that they knew that I had nothing to do with whatever Denis was involved in.

The morning proceeded like every other morning, making breakfast for the kids, getting them off to school,  and going about my daily chores.

Mr. R was in a good mood, and asked how the concert went, I showed him the photos I’d taken, and told him about the difficulty in finding the exit, to which he laughed.  He didn’t ask me at what time I’d come home, so all seemed good, I was in the clear (I hoped).

Just before noon the phone rang, it was Denis, he said he needed to talk, not that we needed to talk, but that he needed to. ............... <Next>